


F is for Friends

by writers_blocc



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Tumblr: westallensmutweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7270525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writers_blocc/pseuds/writers_blocc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That do stuff together." Or to each other. My late submission for WestAllensmutWeek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	F is for Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended for WestAllenSmutWeek but work, and concerts; then the Cavs won the championship and Dean Ambrose cashed in his Money in the Bank contract and fucking Game of Thrones (Sansa, yaaaaas queen!) like when was I supposed to have had the time!? So, I’m sorry this is late but I hope you can enjoy it all the same. 
> 
> This is to fulfill WestAllenSmutWeeks' Friday prompt (I think it was Friday): friends with benefits.

“Ninja turtles, Barry, really?”

“What?”

He peeks down at his colorfully animated boxer briefs and shrugs one broad shoulder. He lifts his head to find Iris paused in the middle of her bedroom floor, one hand stalled at the button of her shirt.

“They’re the only clean pair I had.” He chucks his jeans away, toeing off his socks next, watching as she shakes her head in amusement. Her fingers pick up where they left off and one button is set free followed shortly by another.

“Besides,” he finishes his thought process before the rest of the blood sinks south to a different head, and smiles cockily, “it’s not like they’re staying on.”

Iris rolls her eyes this time at his badly worded innuendo because real mature Barry. Real mature. To make his point he drops his underwear to his feet leaving his semi hard length to bob against his stomach and sway in the open air of her bedroom.

Iris pupils darken at the sight of his length hanging there, pointing directly at her. Almost inviting her to take it at her own will and okay, so _really_.

Her hands rip the rest of the buttons away because who cares about the delicacy of silk blouses and leather skirts when Barry Allen is standing naked in front of you. The dark set of her underwear follow, hitting the wall in whichever direction she has thrown them in.

Barry’s nostrils flair when she stands naked and it’s like a countdown slash stare down has ensued as they stand on opposite sides of her queen size bed. All it takes is the slightest shift in his stance and yeah, okay. They’re doing this. Like now, like right now.

They meet at the center of her bed in a clash of lips, clinking teeth and wandering hands. Barry is eager, as always, licking and kissing anything his mouth can reach and Iris - well she’s pretty much on the same page.

Okay, so maybe she’s a little bit more eager than usual.

“Woah-”

Barry falls back from his haunches at her persistence.

“Someone’s rougher than usual today, are you in a hurry?”

The arrogant smirk he’s wearing won't do him any favors. But he can’t help it, it’s not every day the girl of your dreams is just as thirsty for you as you are for her. But, whatever, he digresses.

She makes him pay for it. She always does. That smirk, it’s gone, wiped clear when she pops the head of his shaft into her mouth. A sigh of “sweet Jesus” takes its’ place as he sinks back into the cushion of her blanket. He’s never going to get use to this. To her, to the warmth of her mouth, the suction of her lips.

Iris is triumphant, feeling him melt under her touch and smiles around the heavy length in her mouth. The parts her mouth can't reach, yet - she’ll remind you that she’s working on it, is gripped tightly in her hand as she matches the pace of her plunging mouth, twining her grip in perfect sync.

He’s starting to leak in her and she hums appreciatively for the salty sweet mixture gathering on her tongue. He taste good. So good. She tells him all the time.

Above her, Barry’s head is pushed back into the wall of pillows decorating her bed, mouth sagging open as he succumbs to the tight hold she has right under his crown and the concentrated swipe of her tongue over his slit.

He can feel his abdominals tense and his knee jerks in reaction. “Iris.” 

He must have called her name a hundred times within the short span of a second but she has to know. He wouldn’t be a good friend if he didn’t give her a heads up.

“Oh - fu - Iris. Iris.”

The words quicken just as her hand does, just as fast as his shaft is disappearing and reappearing - in and out of her wet, warm mouth. Just as fast as his crown repeatedly knocks at the back of her throat. As fast as the feel of his groin tightening and the shooting pulse that races up his spine.

The band of his discipline snaps. And he’s cumming.

Hard.

Barry is not a thrasher but his head does reel to the side exposing the vein in his neck as he holds his breath. When it’s over he feels like he’s just run to the edge of the earth and back sans super powers. Oxygen. He needs oxygen.

Iris crawls up his body, leaving a trail of wet kisses in her wake until finally she reaches his lips and dives in vigorously, letting him taste the remnants of him on her tongue.

“Someone’s … excited.”

Barry grumbles at the way she drags out excited. And - so? It’s been awhile since they’ve gotten to do this. With her in KeyStone for two weeks and him in Coast City following her return, it’s been a while. Like, a very long excruciating while.

“What can I say. Your technique is pretty thorough. Congratulations to you.”

His teasing elicits a giggle that starts deep in her system and travels up until it morphs into giddy laughter, creating a different kind of acoustics to the otherwise hushed room. It’s enough of a distraction to flip her under him, peck at her nipple before swiping his tongue down.

Her laughter dies off. It’s now an anticipating sigh, full of hope of what’s to come especially as he lifts back up to tug at the dark pebble.

“H-How was your trip?”

Iris is aware that she's mumbling, babbling foolishly really, as trivial questions such as this one have no precedence over their current predicament. Questions like these should be asked before or after but it’s been so long since they’ve held a conversation that wasn’t sent via text or spoken tiredly late at night. So, it feels kinda right to share some type of formality before things really start to heat up.

She was just getting in from work when she found him perched against her apartment door. She remembers mentioning that she hadn’t expected him so soon. His train was supposed to get in later that evening but he’d caught an earlier one home, he recaps. She remembers how the tension was palpable and the next thing either of them knew; they were sucking face in the middle of the hallway.

Her keys make it into the lock somehow.

Her heels fly off and his Converse follow. 

And he’s backing her into her bedroom, hands pulling and tugging at their clothes until she pauses at his choice of ridiculous underwear.

But his mouth. No, nope - ridiculous is the farthest thing from Iris’s mind when it comes to his mouth - unless of course, it’s the amount of ridiculous things he can do to her. Things she would’ve never known he could do if it weren’t for a drunken New Year's Eve night all those months ago.

“It was great.”

Barry concentrates on twisting her other nipple between his index finger and thumb while the other stays trapped between his teeth, forging a nice tune that shoots straight down to her core. When she moans loudly, he releases it. Letting it go with a loud pop.

“Hal is really getting things back on track there. The city should be back up to form shortly.”

“That’s - that’s good.” That’s feels so good.

“It is, definitely.”

Barry smiles into the ghost kiss he’s started along her stomach, easily catching the entendre to her words, stopping only to dip his tongue into the shallow hole of her belly button. It makes her shudder.

“You though, how was Keystone? I feel like,” he moves down, spreading her legs and licks her thigh and Iris instinctively lifts her hips up. He backs away, teasing. He’s always teasing her, and slides his tongue down to kiss her right outside of her folds. “I feel like I haven't had a real conversation with you in forever.”

Forever is such a strong word, but three hours with Iris can feel like three minutes. No matter how fast he runs, in any timeline or dimension there never seems to be enough time. So imagine how a whole month can pass by without him being here with her like this. Tasting her like this. Having her here, underneath him, open and wanting like this.

He makes of point of sliding his tongue up, sliding against her folds, not breaking the seal but providing the promise of what’s to come. His tongue swirls, teasing her entrance as he waits for her response.

“Barry,” the call of his name leaves her lips in a hiss and her hips lift trying, desperately trying, to get closer. Her hand tugs at his scalp. Another beg, another plea. “Barry.”

It looks like he’s not the only one who’s excited.

A small part of him wants to stay just like this, buried between her thighs, watching her being teased into submission until he decides when she can cum but, he kisses her cleft and draws his tongue out to find her sweet, wet and all his for the taking, and he relents.

Barry likes to devour her the same way he does his ice cream; starting from the bottom where she drips, letting it build until he can lap it up with his tongue and move up, following the trail from which it came from. His tongue burrows into her core until he builds up to the prize where her stiff bundle of nerves await him. He angles his head so the entire pad of his tongue brushes against her in full and looks up to find her back bowed, the flesh of her breast fisted in one of her hands and her face gleaming.

Iris is probably not aware of this. That she smiles when she’s about to come but Barry does, he is fully aware of her brilliance pre-orgasmic bliss because he knows he would do anything to have her smile like that. His tongue focus on her clit, issuing tiny quick circles and dips first one long finger inside of her. He doesn’t bother to control the pace, instead he allows her to find her own tempo and directs him wherever or however she needs him.

One finger turns into two.

“Oh fuck. Shit, Barry. Shit.”

Iris curses like a sailor during sex. Only during sex.

She’s moving faster, slashing past his knuckles to take him deep and as her hips rise, Barry knows that this is it. He does the only things he can to help her over the edge; Barry curls his fingers up mimicking the ‘come here’ motion rubbing the soft patch of nerves inside of her.

She ignites like an open flame. It starts low in her belly until it spreads like wildfire and takes over her entire system. The hand in his hair snaps down to wrist, holding him there to ensure that he stays put as her hips rock on their own accord, and she’s shuttering around his fingers, under his tongue.

Barry chases after the juices pooling in the palm of his hand, sloppily striking his tongue to clean her mess away wherever it drips. His final destination ends with a sucking kiss to her clit that makes her clamp her legs together, squishing the sides of his face with her oily thighs.

“Barry,” Iris warns. She’s too sensitive right now.

He uses his forearms to push himself up, dislodging his fingers; he sucks one into his mouth, releases it and teases the other one across the bridge of her upper lip until she opens her mouth to accept the digit.

If he hadn't been rock hard before from watching her come, he was definitely there now.

Condom. He needs a condom, like yesterday.

He pulls open the top drawer of her nightstand, almost knocking the drawer out completely before he can find the item of his pursuit.

He tares the wrapper, straps up and lays in the part of her thighs.

Iris squeals, falling into a fit of laughter as he kisses her brow first then her neck and cheeks and finally her lips. She kisses him back, lapping at his tongue in response to him palming her ass, and spreading her open as he rocks forward.

She curses again as Barry starts grinding into her body, slow stroking her until she shimmers with sweat.

He pulls up, following the path her gaze has set out on and lands on the sight of them connecting.  

She likes to watch.

Barry can’t say that he blames her. The first time he caught her though, he'd come almost immediately because one it was hot. Two, it was quite the site to take in; her folds stretching around his turgid shaft and the shiny slick trail she left behind on his length. The froth collecting in the short triangle of hair at his apex.

And three, shit, he moaned when she clamped down around him, sucking him in even deeper. Shit, what the hell was three again…? 

Three? Hot, yeah. Did he mention how hot this was?

“Oh,” Iris whimpers, head tossing to the left and her nails dig into his sides.

Another thing Barry has learned among the number of fascinating things that Iris can do, is that's she’s easily orgasmic and it's literally the most incredible thing, like, ever.  

But he’s not done with her yet.

Being away from her for so long makes him want to make up for lost time. So yeah, he’s so far from being done with her.  

He sits up, grabbing hold of his base and pulls out. The swollen crown of his head comes out with a loud slurp, and air that follows is oddly close to a fart and as the sound reverberates around the room her laughter choruses along with it and Barry’s chuckle isn't far behind.

They're grateful for the years of friendship under their belts because if they couldn’t laugh at silly things like this then how would they ever continue to exist? No shying away: that was their motto. Instead, they confronted it, dealt with it and learned to laugh when the situation called for it.

Because these things were bound to happen.

They could let it ruin their fun or accept it. When they realized that friends with benefits was the route their relationship was starting to take they decided then and there to let the chips fall where they may. If a problem were to arise then they would deal with it then. Besides, why create unnecessary drama?

When they’ve settled, Iris lifts her hips, moans, begging to be filled.

But Barry has other ideas and flips her over. He licks the sweat forming at the juncture of her neck and bites down softly.

They moan in unison. Iris turns her head, locking her lips to his, moving with the buck of his hips as he enters her for a second time.

He has this need you see - a need he was completely unaware of until their first time together - to hear the desperate sounds she makes when he takes her like this. Her own, unique, plead for release.

Barry wraps his arms around her stomach, holding her body closer and thrust harder.

"Don't stop," she groans.

Something snaps in the lower pit of his stomach as chills take turns racing up his spine. The sound of her voice, raw and hungry always does him in. Barry pulls up on his arms, fucking his pelvis against the fat cheeks of her ass. Long stroking her now.

And Iris meets him for each one.

Barry pulls her up and her hair fans wildly over her face as her head tucks into his neck. She gasp, feeling him go deeper.

"Oh God," she braces her hand on the headboard, but it's not enough. She needs more. Her hand slips and she falls back to the mattress. Face down, back arched and ass up for his taking.

It's all for him.

Barry throbs at the sight before him. Never, ever would he have imagined having Iris, here, like this in all of his wildest dreams. She was so perfect. Hot. “So fucking beautiful,” he finds himself groaning as his member plunges inside of her like a jackhammer. And she’s just so damn wet and just too gotdamn tight, it should be illegal.

His head lulls back when she rolls her hips at the smack of their bodies meeting. His crown swells and his sack pulls tight to his groin.

"Gonna come," he warns her.

"Please!"

Iris gasp, pushing back and rolling her ass against him again. And again.  

“Please!”

Barry leans over her, holding himself up by one arm on the metal headboard and wraps the other one around her to squeeze her breast, tugging at the stiff nipple and holds still, letting Iris take over. She rocks her body back and forth, around and around beneath him, taking her pleasure from him in any form that she choose.

"Oh my God," the pillows have been pushed to the edge of the bed and she's clawing at the sheets. “Oh God.”

Barry has to force himself to think about equations, theorems, anything to keep his mind off the feeling of Iris and to keep still because even the slightest tilt of his hips would cause him to erupt like a live volcano.

"Come," Iris gasp, pushing higher up onto her arms, "Please, baby. Come with me."

At her demand, Barry heaves her up so they rest back on his knees. Both hands squeeze at the soft flesh of her breast and he holds on, letting his lower half takeover. Almost apprehensive because he knows from this angle he’s too big for her, almost too long.

But she doesn’t seem to care. Or maybe she’s too far gone - either way Barry is giving her his all, even more so as Iris’s hands fly to her chest, cupping his own hands in hers to add the extra pressure that she needs and he feels it coming, feels her clench down hard in sync with his gut tightening, snapping loose and rush up his shaft. He thrust deeper, burying every inch of himself inside of her as he explodes just as she does.

She shakes in his arms, a silent scream echoes off the four corners of her bedroom, and it feels like an eternity before she falls limp in his arms.

Barry holds her a she sucks in fresh air, resting back in a boneless heap in his lap. He’s sated, content. The weight of the world he carries on his shoulders is momentarily forgotten as he kisses along her back, across her bare shoulder and up to nibble on the curve of her neck.

"I love you.“

That’s new.

They don’t - they’ve never said -

Barry pauses the path he’s started, his mind starting to rush in a million different directions, trying to process everything at once during his post-haze.

For a minute he actually worries that he was the one to say the words out loud. That he was the one to reveal his secret. But, “I love you,” and there it is again.

And that was definitely not him.

**Author's Note:**

> So a part of me likes to think that Iris dominants no matter what position she finds herself in the bedroom. Not that she doesn't like it when Barry takes control, because she does - she just can't help it, and Barry, well he's all too happy to oblige. I dunno, what do you think?
> 
> And thanks for reading.


End file.
